


choices

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [7]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18651451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: In summary: Rio really does get Beth on top of that desk.AN: This fic runs in the timeline of my other fics, after ‘tea for two’ with subtle inspirations from 2x09 with Beth saying she’s ‘done’ with Rio and the business. I just have a lot of unresolved feelings.--“What did you call me for? Why am I here?”She doesn’t answer him, couldn’t even if she had something to say. She shakes her head quickly and his arms create a cage around her, pressing into the desk on either sides of her thighs. His mouth is moments away from hers; they’re practically breathing the same air and Beth shudders, feels a shiver works its way down her spine.“Elizabeth,” He says, voice calmer than before and in a harsh whisper that seems to caress her body. “Why am I here?”





	choices

**Author's Note:**

> This work is now part of a series for my Brio fics that follow a nice timeline. It's called 'plans wrapped in rubber bands' and it's not absolutely necessary to read the fics that come before but there's a lot of context from 'you'll learn'. 
> 
> Heed the explicit warning, my dudes.

She supposes, in retrospect, that this choice looks easy. Dean doesn’t give her much space to figure things out: it’s either her work or her kids. Is the risk she’s taking, the cash she’s turning and saving really worth it if she has no one to share it with?

Seeing her kids every so often, always in one or sets of two, wasn’t something she could handle much longer. It was a taste of how things used to be, a specific part of her life that she never regretted and while Dean was unbearable and a liar and a cheater, her kids were and still continue to be the brightest spots of her day.

She’s a mother first and everything else second.

But while it _feels_ easy to back out of everything she’s started the past few months, it’s not. There are so many strings she wasn’t aware of that knotted to every small piece of her, tugging painfully as she tries to sever the ties. Beth makes peace with herself that she won’t be able to provide for her kids anymore, not with that secure feeling that wraps around her like a blanket. There are no more guarantees and there’s no more safety nets and she has to figure shit out like any other parent who worries and worries and _worries_ and hope things work out for the best.

She reasons that even though she doesn’t give a shit about Dean’s feelings, she’s not doing this for him, that she’s not buckling under his scrutiny to what he wants. A little voice nags in the back of her mind that he wants her to feel powerless again, to be dependent on him to the point where she falls back into some sort of warped reality like a 1950’s housewife—and it takes everything in her to bite down on the sour taste in her mouth and just handle what she needs to do.

If this is what it takes to get her kids back…then what choice does she really have?

Beth stretches at her desk at Boland Motors, her arms going up and over her head, cracking the one side of her neck after wrapping up a long day. Regardless of her ending her shadier business dealings, she still has a car dealership to run and profits to predict. She stands and gathers papers, tucking them into folders to put them at the corner of her desk for tomorrow. Her fingers are quick to glide every corner of paperwork out of place but winces when she gives herself a papercut.

She pulls her hand back quickly and sighs, watching blood slowly curl out of her fingertip. She wants to grab a tissue and press it to the wound, to stop the free-flowing red blossoming over her pores, but she finds herself almost transfixed by it.

She wanted to cut all strings that tied her to a life without her children, and yet, she didn’t realize how painful it’d be to cut a particular cord. As if when she yanked, the stitching coming free, that very same blood inching forward to remind her of what she was going back to.

_Rio takes a step towards her in the park that they so often meet at during the daytime. The frame of his body is tight and he wants to use his height to tower over her, she can feel it, static electricity sizzling in the air. The park feels different at night, cold grass and harsh metal that creaks when the wind blows._

_“Excuse me?”_

_She doesn’t want to have to repeat herself but she knew that this conversation was going to be hard no matter what. Beth looks away, difficult to look directly him, almost so close in a black jean jacket and beanie just barely covering his ears._

_“I said I’m done, with all of it.”_

_She can hear Rio let out a slow breath out of his nose, like he’s trying to process her words before he says anything. She’s seated on a park bench, the wood cold and numbing against the back of her legs._

_“I heard you the first time, I’m just wonderin’ why you think this is some sort of subscription you can cancel at any time.” She closes her eyes, his voice clear and unrelenting in the night air. “That’s not how this works.”_

_Beth stands from the bench, digging her hands into her pockets and pulling her coat tighter across her chest like some sort of shield. “Dean_ took _my kids.”_

_He talks over her, “Yeah, you keep tellin’ me that like it’s supposed to make a difference.” His words cut into her skin, despite that she knows he’s just saying these things to purposefully hurt her because this is what Rio does. The moment she pulls him out of his comfort zone, he lashes out._

_Can’t he sympathize with her? Just_ once? _“You have to know how I feel. You have a son; what if someone took him away from you?”_

 _He bristles suddenly and she knows it's wrong to bring up Marcus, to entertain the idea that Rio might lose him one day because of carelessness, his seedy work or the people he decides to do business with...but she's just trying to get him to_ understand _._

_She's doing the best she can with what she has--this seems like the only option that makes sense._

_She can't lose her kids. She just can’t._

_Beth expects him to react just as heated as he's looking at her, his eyes boring holes into her skin, his jaw working over words he won't allow himself to say. But he doesn't do any of that, instead she's met with a cold indifference to the point where he actually takes a step back from her, licking his lips before offering her a small head nod._

_"Okay, ma, here's a lesson for you." She recalls that night when she repaired the stop sign, the heat of his body pressed against her own as he trailed a finger along her forehead to push her bangs aside. He was going to teach her and she remembers how badly she wanted to fit into his world._

_"It's kill or be killed, I told you that once; if you can't learn how to prioritize then you're worthless to me."_

_Her mouth falls open a little, unsure of what she expected him to say. She didn't think it'd be this, the literal distance he's trying to put between them. But the way his mouth curls around the word 'worthless'—like she's done_ nothing _for him in all this time together makes frustration bubble in her chest._

_"I've done everything you've ever asked of me," Her voice is shrill, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. The cash, the cars, the drugs, the gun—the gun. "I've killed someone for you." Her voice shakes, just slightly._

_Her hands still tremble when she thinks about it, something she's tried to bury deep poking through the cracks at that admission. Even after all this time, Rio's body cleaning up her mess like it never happened, somehow saying it outloud makes it more real._

_There's blood staining her hands despite how many times she's washed them._

_Rio's expression is unchanging, not swayed by the emotion in her voice. "And I'm supposed to thank you? That's part of the fucking job you asked to be a part of, partner. I ain't got time to coddle you, you wanna be done? Fine."_

_And then he's turning on his heel, moving through the grass to leave the park. She's watching his retreating back and is overwhelmed with the sensation of sand slipping between her fingers._

_He looks over his shoulder, one more comment to hammer the final nail in the coffin of their business dealings, "And don't even think about tryin' to crawl your way back."_

Beth closes her hand, her eyes slipping shut a moment as she runs her thumb over the papercut. Her foot accidently knocks into a black bag under her desk as she pulls back and straightens her posture, her hands nervously fixing the collar of her dress as she considers the contents.

When she looks up again he’s there, leaning against the doorframe of her office, watching her. She hasn’t seen him in months and the sudden realness of his body, the warmth she can feel gathering in her chest and working lower and _lower_ hits her like a ton of bricks. There’s an ache that she almost can’t describe, clutching her ribcage in a vice-like grip; hard to breathe.

He’s guarded, she can tell by the way he isn’t angling his body towards her own, dressed in simple dark jeans and a white t-shirt. All the times she’s seen him, he’s rarely been in white. The contrast against his skin and tatoos is almost too bright, and she’s suddenly struck with how bad of an idea this meeting is. Beth feels goosebumps decorate her skin underneath the patterned floral dress she has on and she knows it has nothing to do with the slightly cooler temperature in her office.

His eyes are expectant, if not a little impatient and she supposes she better get this over with so they can go their separate ways. She picks the bag up on the floor near her feet and rounds the desk, setting it onto the waiting chairs near the doorway to her office.

Rio’s gaze doesn’t take a moment to fall onto the bag and she feels herself buckling under the scrutiny, choked into small talk because the silence is too overbearing. “How’s business?”

He takes a few steps towards the bag, his hand falling to the zipper to pull it open. “Not yours.” It’s pointed but there’s no malice there, that same indifference she’s so used to seeing like a mask glued onto his skin.

This was supposed to be an easy choice and yet it’s increasingly starting to feel like one of the hardest she’s ever made. She can’t lie to herself about how good it feels to have him so close again, the scent of his skin mixed with cologne and fresh laundry wafting to her nose as he pulls the zipper down on the bag. She’s suddenly struck with the memory of how it felt to work with him; frustrating to say the least, painful but invigorating in a way that’s hard to describe. It’s woken up a part of her, something she didn’t even know was there, and now it’s hard to lay it back down to rest.

Regardless of how hard she’s trying. For some reason the hardest part seems to be that she always expected Rio to try and get her back into the business. She wanted him to ask, to try and reason with her but he never does. He doesn’t care whether they work together or not.

He takes a look into the bag, a scoff tumbling from his lips before he fixes her with a look. “You wanted to give me this?”

Beth frowns, unwashed cash in red rubber bands staring back at her. “Yes.”

“You’re—” He says quickly but then stops, bites down on his lower lip like he has to take a moment so he doesn’t lose his patience. Rio stands a little straighter, his eyes seeming to take a snapshot of the way she’s holding herself before he turns away, running a hand over his jawline.

His demeanor suddenly changes as he walks over to her desk, sinking down into her chair, the muscles of his shoulders not pulled as tight as he leans back into the leather seat. She suddenly feels like some sort of bug beneath a microscope under his gaze. Beth isn’t fond of how he’s looking at her, like he’s trying to peel back her skin and figure out exactly what makes her tick.

“Nah,” He says, “I don’t think so.”

She frowns, because out of everything she thought he’d say it wasn’t _that._ “What? I…I don’t need the cash anymore; I can’t wash it. I figured you could give it to someone else to turn a profit for you.”

“You suddenly interested in recycling?” He asks and she bites her tongue in saying that she’s _always_ been. After all, there are seven different types of plastics and not all of them are recyclable and that she’s been trying to do more DIY projects to prevent plastic in landfills and yet…she’s sure that’s not what he means.

“You didn't have to call me to get rid of this.” He points out, “Coulda burned it for all I care.”

She’s scrambling for a response and she can feel her cheeks kiss with heat as she tries to figure out what to say to him, crossing her arms over her chest before letting out a long breath out of her lungs. Something that made so much sense somehow means nothing as she’s standing there before him, trying to explain away a bag of useless cash.

Deep down she knows that finding the bag of cash and trying to return it is an excuse, and the longer Rio stares at her, the more he realizes it too. Instead of waiting for her to crank out a response, he reaches for a picture frame across her desk.

It’s of her and Dean with the kids at Christmas, under the tree, bright smiling faces and matching pajama sets. He motions to her with it, “You happy?” and it’s such a loaded question that her mind thinks of six different ways to reply.

Rio’s only interested in one answer and it’s not the one coming out of her mouth. “Yes, of course.”

He puts the picture face down on her desk. “I don’t believe you.”

It’s incredibly brazen to try and call her out like that, regardless of the way he always seems to do this. He can’t _know_ that…they haven’t spoken or seen one another in months. She decided to leave her life of secrecy and crime behind for the life she’s currently living. Of _course_ she’s happy…and somehow this is so typical, that he has the audacity to call her a liar.

“You don’t know me.” Beth says, her voice an octave higher as she takes a step towards where he’s seated at her desk.

He’s struck a nerve, he can see it on her face, and smiles a little condescendingly like he did that day in the bar he tried to give her the keys to the kingdom. “I still think I do.” He repeats.

A scoff claws up her throat and she’s still inching towards him, almost rounding the corner, like somehow proximity will get her point across. “I’ve changed, I’m not the same person that you worked with.”

Rio leans his elbows carefully onto her desk, his weight making the wood creak ever so slightly. “People don’t change, they just get better at hiding shit.” He rolls a thought between his lips a moment before he says, “You told me you were done.”

It’s not quite accusatory, but she feels her defenses shoot up like walls around her. Her fingers dig into the flesh of her arms, “I know what I said.”

He can see right through her now, she can feel it, like he’s staring through her as if she’s glass separating him and the showroom of the dealership. Beth’s right, he _doesn’t_ know her specifically—not like that, doesn’t know her birthday or her favorite color, what flowers she enjoys in the house and that she’s allergic to bunnies. But he knows _nuances_ of her, things she never shows to anyone else, things he seems to read between her bones and know between her lips, thoughts and feelings printed on her skin like a tattoo.

Because he’s the same, she realizes, the other side of the coin.

“You don’t get to have it both ways,” He says, as if she’s a child, slow and deliberate.

The moment she reacts to that, the moment she gives him a scathing look for his tone, he slams his fist on her desk. The sound echoes wildly in the room and Beth physically jumps, she can feel herself, her hand falling onto her chest as her heartbeat rams in her ears.

“You think I can't figure this shit out without you? I've done work long before you walked into my life, darlin', and I'll do it in your absence. Probably with less drama.” He points out, voice like scrambled heat. She can feel herself breathing a little heavier from her start and while the proximity of his body hasn’t changed, the strength of his voice makes it feel like he’s directly on top of her.

Beth swallows, her arms falling loosely to her sides. He stands from the desk but doesn’t leave like she expects him to, and instead he presses into her space until she has no choice to back up against the desk. She finds herself sitting on the edge, looking up into his eyes, heat pulling a strong tug between her legs.

“What did you call me for? Why am I here?”

She doesn’t answer him, couldn’t even if she had something to say. She shakes her head quickly and his arms create a cage around her, pressing into the desk on either sides of her thighs. His mouth is moments away from hers; they’re practically breathing the same air and Beth shudders, feels a shiver works its way down her spine.

“Elizabeth,” He says, voice calmer than before and in a harsh whisper that seems to caress her body. “Why am I here?”

Rio wants to hear her say it but it never comes, instead she closes the distance between them, crashing her mouth onto his own.  It takes him one second longer than she would have expected before he’s kissing her back with equal tenacity, his knee prying her thighs open as his one hand snakes behind her neck. A soft insistent sound empties into his mouth from her throat and he wraps his other arm around her to push her back onto her desk, her hips grinding against his knee for any sort of friction.

Beth pulls back for a fraction of a moment to breathe, her arm moving quickly and almost sloppily behind her to scrape the contents off her desk. Rio helps, leans up, isn’t gentle with how he throws things aside. Grass cracks, knickknacks shatter, papers fly everywhere and in-between their quickened breaths, Rio’s hand sliding along her thigh, and his tongue in her mouth—she could care less.

She’s yanking at the collar of his shirt before he pulls back to quickly take it off, her hands and fingernails grazing along tattooed skin, grabbing at his back to pull him between her legs. He won’t let her, however, feet digging into the ground to steel himself and she lets out the most indignant whine that she’ll deny making later.

The bastard has the nerve to smirk, his hands trailing along the outside of her legs before he hikes her dress up. “Easy, mami.” He mumbles and pulls her underwear down in one fluid motion.

Beth’s trembling, she can feel her skin stick to the wood of her desk, an internal flame building behind her ribcage to the point where she’s actually thankful for the air conditioning in her office. He’s savoring this, taking his time, gently prying her legs open and kissing the underside of her knee before moving, up, _up—_

The scruff on his jawline scrapes against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and a breath wraps around her windpipe and _chokes_ when she feels his mouth against her. His tongue easily pries her open, slipping inside, his hands holding onto her legs so she can’t close them around him, a strangled cry leaving her lips because _fuck, oh fuck._

Beth’s hips buckle into the sensation, a long drawn out moan following her quickened breaths as he squeezes her hip in encouragement. Her back writhes against the wood of her desk and she scrambles a little to get comfortable, to grab onto something, _anything_ so she can ground herself but the moment she reaches for him is the second he pulls away, his lower lip swollen red.

He’s not gone for long before he’s kissing her, slipping between her legs again. She can hear him undo his jeans, the metal of his belt clinking together and she feels that familiar ache knot inside her—it’s then she realizes that she’s missed him.

Missed the heated and rough intimacy—while she does enjoy working with him and their business, nothing quite feels like partners than _this._ Her hand finds his cheek, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone as he slips inside of her.

He groans audibly, his forehead falling to her shoulder, her hips meeting to reach his own. She winces as the knob of her spine digs into the wood of the desk, her other hand falling to his back and digging her nails into his shoulder blade. He seems to sense her discomfort because he wraps an arm around them and flips their positions.

It’s incredibly awkward, the desk too small a space to be doing this, and she nearly tumbles onto the floor. He holds onto her with a hushed laugh when she giggles at the sheer ridiculousness of all this.

Rio then holds her gaze for a moment, his breath coming in small pants, moving the hair that’s framing her face. His hand follows the action, tucking the strands behind her ear before wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck again. He guides her into a kiss, their hips moving and picking up the pace, the sound of slick skin and soft moans filling the air around them.

It doesn’t take Beth long to reach her climax thanks to Rio’s head between her legs minutes before. When he cums he grabs onto her, hard, and definitely tears open the top part of her dress, buttons flying in opposite directions.

Neither of them seem to notice.

She collapses against him, head tucked just under his own, her knees bunched and uncomfortable against the desk as her mouth moves to press soft kisses against the wings of the bird on his neck. Despite her position, she doesn’t want to move, his chest moving her up and down as he tries to regulate his breathing.

Rio’s hand slips down her back, massaging the knobs of her spine gently, before trying to shift himself and finding it almost impossible.

“Your desk is fuckin’ terrible.” He says after a moment.

Beth huffs out a laugh against his chest. “Well, I don’t think it’s made to lay on.”

She can feel him smile without looking at him, the same hand that’s on her back moving to tangle his fingers in her hair. She eventually has to move or she risks some of her body parts going numb and he sits up, helping her off the desk before she’s pulling away, cleaning herself up the best she can as he does the same.

She finds her underwear underneath her desk and pulls them back on, smoothing her hair into a loose bun to get it out of her face. When she turns back to look at him, Rio has his pants back up and his t-shirt on even though she’s pretty sure it’s inside out.

Her mouth opens to say something but she’s unsure what, her eyes falling to the mess of paperwork and broken glass around her desk. She rounds the corner on wobbly legs because she can at least pick things up and worry about rearranging everything tomorrow when she’s met with a resounding _crunch_ as she steps on something.

Beth knows what it is before even looking and a slow breath leaves her lips, her eyes slipping closed as Rio leans down and picks up the picture frame. He hands it to her, a gentle wince decorating her face as she sees the splintered glass. She tries not to notice that the largest crack is right between her and Dean—almost too coincidental.

It’s ironic the amount of emotions that seem to crash down on her all at once, how guilty she feels mixed with the guilt that comes from not regretting anything at all. Her thumb runs along the fractured glass of her kid’s faces and a choked noise leaves her lips, something stuck between a frustrated cry and a laugh.

“What am I doing?” She’s asking herself more than anything else and Rio seems to know that, always seems to know her, because he doesn’t respond and instead just cups her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone.

She’s not sure how long they stand there, broken things surrounding them, and yet with his hand on her cheek—she’s never felt more whole. When he pulls away, the heat of his touch gone, he waits until she’s looking him in the eyes to ask,

“What do you want, Elizabeth?”

It seems like such an easy question to answer, an easy choice to make and—really? Is anything easy for her to answer anymore? Maybe there isn’t something simple to offer; it’s too complex and there are too many things she can and wants to say. So all Beth can do is shake her head at him, eyes a little wide and filling with tears at the corners from frustration.

“I don’t _know.”_

Rio considers her a moment, a long stretch of air leaving his nose before he licks his lips. “You’re one of the few partners I’ve had that hasn’t tried to kill me, so,” And she can’t quite tell if he’s teasing her or not, “There’s always room for you.” _To come back_ hangs in the air and she can’t express to him how much that means: the opportunity of a choice, still there, waiting for her if she wants it.

It takes her a moment but Beth nods her head, still clutching her broken family photo in her hands as Rio leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her temple. He moves then, crouches down to help pick up odds and end things from her desk.

“No,” She says softly, making him turn his head to look at her. “I need to clean up this mess on my own.”

She watches him chew on the inside of his cheek, like he wants to say something else but decides against it. In the end he respects her wishes and stands, his hand squeezing her shoulder before he disappears out of her office door, pointedly leaving the unwashed cash behind.

Beth instantly misses the heat of his body, his presence making her feel complete. She glances down at the picture of her family and takes the back off the frame, letting the broken glass fall to the floor. The photograph is scratched up; it’s not perfect anymore.

She supposes, in retrospect, that this choice looks easy.

It’s not.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you want to talk brio please COME BOTHER ME @ my ask. Or leave me prompts ;) blainesebastian.tumblr.com/ask


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